Tiny Woman
by Last-Smile
Summary: Work was work. Nothing more nothing less. And Sloan was okay with that. Until that tiny woman crossed his path, and his reason for keeping a Louis Vuitton shoe becomes less about the money and more about finding answers. Lame summary, sorry! OCs, AU-ish. A bit of character speculation, as Sloan's background really isn't explained. Rated T for now, possibly M later. R&R please !


**Hello dears, it's been a long time. Like a really long time. Hella long time...yeah. Well I've been catching up on the newest seasons of Durarara and find that I've taken an interest in Sloan-but there aren't really any stories on here about or with him ;_; Oh well, that's fine. Anyway, the formal stuff, y'know: I don't own Durarara, only my characters and my plot. This is AU-ish, as the plot does not necessarily follow the canon plot. If that's not something you're into, turn back now. There honestly isn't much depth to Sloan or his back story so..I'm just going to have to make that up as I go along. Anyway, enough of the introduction! Hands and feet inside the ride at all times, and ladies and gentlemen, enjoy~  
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 _"My son...My son, time to get up! It's morning!" The lump under the sheets and covers stirred ever so slightly, before a head of snow poked lazily from under the mass. Ah, right...class. A heavy figure he was, sitting upright and causing the bed to groan in protest beneath him. He scratched the back of his head and stared warily out of the window. As white as his hair; Yes this winter proved already to be as brutal as ever. It would be some time before he'd drag himself up, padding a bit loudly to the door. Mondays were shit, always had been and they always would be. If it weren't for his sweet, delicate mother, he might even curse up a storm at being up so early in the morning. But alas, today was to be like any other day. Or perhaps not. A shriek jolted him from his thoughts, and the sound of clattering kitchenware urged him to practically leap down the steps and make a sharp left into the kitchen. On any other Monday morning he might chalk it up to his mother being clumsy again, but, no...the shrill sound of her voice sent chills down his spine, and if that weren't enough, the sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. A mop of platinum blonde hair quickly becoming soaked in a puddle of crimson pouring from a pathetically crumpled body on the ground. His words felt heavy on his tongue as he spoke, icy hues widening slowly._

 _"Mama.."_

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Vorona was not a great driver, and this much Sloan had determined when the truck stopped abruptly for the fourth time that evening, effectively waking him up. Honestly, why had she insisted on him resting and allowing her to drive if all she was going to do was keep him up anyway? He wouldn't voice this aloud though, no. In fact he might as well be grateful; His dreams weren't...pleasant. Glancing out of the window, the snow haired Russian watched the hustle and bustle of Ikebukuro die down with mild interest. Night was closing in, the sky already changing to signal it's arrival. Sloan sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair. When they'd first arrived in the city, people watching was kind of fun. Being a country boy himself, it wasn't often that he got to be in such a crowded environment. But the charm quickly wore off, and so he busied himself with work and..more work. Really he wasn't sure how to go about navigating the city as some kind of tourist. For Christ's sake, it wasn't like that's what his purpose for being here was anyway. But Vorona was becoming increasingly attached to that Shizuo fellow, and was spending less and less time focusing on their 'objectives'. Yeah, that's right. If Vorona could slack off, then dammit he could too! Of course his blonde partner was technically still doing her job...ah to hell with it.

"Estimated time of arrival to hotel; Approximately eight minutes. We will sleep there for tonight." Vorona's voice pulled him from his internal ramblings, Sloan throwing her a glance and grunting in response. Eight minutes turned into four when traffic disappeared, and the duo parked the truck and ventured into their home for the night. Vorona typically did the talking in these instances, paying for their rooms and handing him his key, and bidding him a polite goodnight. Sloan sighed, shaking his head. At least she was slightly less of an emotionless robot. Glancing at his key, he hummed. 12 C, a floor above Vorona's. They never slept on the same floor, it would be too convenient for anyone who attempted to attack them in the night. Whistling a tune, he'd wait at the elevator, paying little mind to the woman who had strode up next to him, also awaiting the elevator. Her phone ringing did warrant his attention though, the ringtone upbeat and almost a tad annoying.

"Hello? Oh! Good, I thought you'd gone to sleep." The woman rambled into her phone, Sloan raising an eyebrow. Her accent was clear as day; She was also a foreigner. English, specifically. The little 'ding' of the elevator was like a wave of relief over him. Finally. He could lay down and rest-God knows he got none in the truck with Vorona. He stepped in, stepping aside for the lady and pressed the 'C' floor button.

"Looks like we're headed up to the same place." Sloan snapped his head in the woman's direction, almost as if questioning if she was talking to him.

"Floor C." She specified. Realization shone, and he nodded.

"Y-yeah, floor C." He responded, not really sure how to make conversation in an elevator. He was relieved when it opened, letting the two occupants out.

"Goodnight, sir." She offered a smile, before going into her room. Sloan nodded and politely bid her goodnight as well, before opening his own door and then promptly locking it behind him. The Guinness World Record for shedding clothes would be his and his alone, the well-built man undressed in mere seconds. Flopping onto the mattress, the snow haired male stretched, ready for sleep to overtake. But through the paper thin walls, the sound of a grunt, a moan, and a steady 'thumping' elicited a groan from him, Sloan draping his arm over his eyes. Could he just get some _fucking sleep._

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 **Alright dears! It's been some time since I've tried my hand at writing, and I hope it wasn't too slow or boring. It's the first chapter, but, it's what makes the impression. Hopefully you lot enjoy where I'm going with this story. There will be OCs in the future, beware, and again to anyone who really isn't into that sort of thing, then please turn back now. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but I will not tolerate flaming and bashing. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!**


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